


baby, who am I to judge?

by persephoneggsy



Series: The Pantheon (YoI Stripper AU) [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Facials, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pole Dancing, Power Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Riding, Roommates, Size Kink, Stripper!Yuuri, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Top Victor Nikiforov, Victor is a mess and I love him for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-02-16 09:29:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13051248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneggsy/pseuds/persephoneggsy
Summary: This is a normal night for Victor – he gets home from the Champion Publishing office building, tries to work for a few extra hours until he falls asleep, and bids his roommate goodbye as he heads out for his own late-night job. Victor’s heart would go out to him, but, well.He has no clue what Yuuri even does.(Prequel toyou can take off your clothes (long as you coming home) )





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title is, once again, from Usher's "I Don't Mind"

* * *

 

“I’m heading out now.”

Victor glances up from the table, where his laptop and a print-out from work sits in front of him. He sees his roommate, Yuuri, slipping on his shoes, a duffel bag slung around his shoulder. Then he glances at the clock. It’s a quarter till nine.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Victor remarks, mostly to himself. But of course, Yuuri hears him anyway.

“Huh?” He blinks adorably, blue-frame glasses slipping down his face until he pushes them back up. “What do you mean?”

“I could never work this late,” replies Victor. “I’d be exhausted. You’re amazing, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s cheeks go aflame, just as Victor knew they would. It brings a happy smile to his face to see the cute, younger man so flustered.

“I-It’s not that remarkable,” he murmurs, adjusting the strap of his bag. “I’ve just gotten used to it…”

“Well, still,” Victor shrugs. “Have fun at work.”

Yuuri sends him a small smile of his own. “Okay. I’ll, um, try to not make a lot of noise when I get back.”

Victor waves off his concern dismissively. Honestly, Yuuri could stomp through their apartment with heavy metal boots and Victor probably wouldn’t wake up. His dog might, and that might actually be who Yuuri’s more concerned about. In which case, Victor appreciates the thought.

Yuuri disappears through the door, and seconds later, Victor hears him lock it. He sighs, unwillingly returning his gaze to his laptop. The first draft of his design sits on photoshop, untouched since Victor himself got home from the office about two hours ago. But, it’s not his fault the client had to go and write the most boring book imaginable (seriously, _insurance?_ How is he supposed to make a book cover look appealing with _that_ as his basis?).

After a few more minutes of fruitless staring, Victor closes the program and then his laptop. It’s not due for another week, anyway. Maybe he can ask one of his coworkers for ideas.

This is a normal night for Victor – he gets home from the Champion Publishing office building, tries to work for a few extra hours until he falls asleep, and bids his roommate goodbye as he heads out for his own late-night job. Victor’s heart would go out to him, but, well.

He has no clue what Yuuri even _does._

 

* * *

 

Here’s what Victor _does_ know about Yuuri Katsuki:

He’s Japanese, having moved to the States for school; evidently, he’s a dancer. Victor probably could’ve guessed that by his appearance alone – Yuuri is small, but slender, with strong, toned legs, an ass you could bounce an entire bank off, and thighs that could probably crush Victor’s skull if he tried hard enough.

In other words, he’s really, _really_ hot.

Victor couldn’t believe his luck when the demure, adorable young man had answered his ad, saying he’d like to be Victor’s new roommate.

It helped that Yuuri got along with Makkachin right away. In fact, some days Victor thinks that his poodle loves Yuuri more than him; not that he blames her. Yuuri gets this soft little grin on his face every time she pads up to him, tongue lolling out of her mouth and tail wagging enthusiastically as he bends down to scratch behind her ears. Honestly, Victor doesn’t know who he’s more jealous of.

He also knows that all Yuuri’s immediate family live back in Japan, in a tiny little town where they own an inn-slash-hot springs. Victor thinks it sounds perfectly charming, but Yuuri apparently didn’t want to be stuck there for the rest of his life; hence, the move to America.

He knows a bunch of other small, trivial things. Like that Yuuri’s favorite color is blue; he’s taken ballet since he was a kid; and his favorite food is something called _katsudon,_ and he can’t eat it very often because he gains weight easily.

(Victor saw him treat himself to a bowl once, though, and the smile on his face then was absolute _euphoric._ A little extra weight wouldn’t be so bad, he remembered thinking; besides, Yuuri would still be cute as hell, no matter the size of his waistline.)

Lastly, he knows that Yuuri is, blessedly, single.

For a time, he thought he wasn’t. First there was a guy named Phichit he thought was Yuuri’s boyfriend, because Yuuri talked about him so much, but then Yuuri mentioned off-handedly that he had just started dating a Korean co-worker of theirs, much to Victor’s relief. Then there was a muscular Canadian – JJ, or something – that would drop by every so often with a bag of… something for Yuuri. They bantered easily, and JJ was kind of a handsy guy, but again, Victor was relieved to hear Yuuri say that he already had a girlfriend.

Eventually he just asked outright, and a stammering Yuuri assured him that he was single, a fact which wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

… Victor wants to be the one that changes that.

It should be obvious by this point, but Victor likes Yuuri. A lot. On the rare occasions that they’re both home and not exhausted from work, they’ll watch movies on the couch, or play with Makkachin, and it’s just so – _domestic._ Victor’s heart swells a little more whenever Yuuri laughs at Makkachin’s antics, or when he falls asleep against Victor halfway through a film.

In short, he’s got it bad. And therein lies the problem.

Victor’s never been a shy person, especially when it comes to love. He’s had a number of relationships, some good, some… not so much. But he’s never once hesitated to tell a person how he feels about them. And he feels so _strongly_ about Yuuri. He should just… say it, right? Ask him out for an innocent date, see if Yuuri feels the same way. The worst he could do is say no; and knowing Yuuri, he’d be as polite as ever, letting Victor down gently.

Only, Victor doesn’t want to be let down. At all.

It’s this fear of rejection, no matter how slim the odds, that holds Victor back. If Yuuri says no, their entire dynamic will change. Well, it would change even if Yuuri said yes, but in a manner that Victor would actually like. If he says no… Things will get awkward. There may very well be no more movies, no more warm banter. Yuuri might even decide to move out.

… Alright, maybe Victor is overthinking it a little. But the point still stands. Between keeping Yuuri close to him by making sure things stay the same, or risking it all for the chance of something more… Victor, for the first time in his life, decides to play it safe.

At least until his phone rings, one fateful night after Yuuri’s already left for work.

 

* * *

 

Victor is startled awake by the blaring ringtone on his phone. It’s an upbeat yet sappy love song – ergo, it’s Yuuri’s tone. Naturally, his roommate doesn’t know this, and Victor would rather die than have him find out.

Blinking rapidly, Victor first checks the time on the clock beside his bed. 1:31 a.m. Christ. Yuuri’s been at work for over four hours now. Why is he calling?

Opting to find out, Victor picks up the phone and holds it to his ear.

“Yuuri?” he asks, voice still rough with sleep.

“Hey, this is Victor, right?” a voice which is decidedly not Yuuri’s asks back. It’s a woman, Victor realizes, much to his confusion.

“Uh… Yes? Who - ?”

“Great! Look, Yuuri left something in his room, and we really, _really_ need it within the next… let’s say, twenty minutes. Can you maybe bring it here?”

Victor blinks. “I…?”

“Please?” she begs. “It’s a matter of life or death!”

“… Is it really?”

“Well. No,” she admits. “But I worked really hard on the damn thing, so I don’t care that Yuuri accidentally forgot to put it in his bag before leaving home. I need it. He needs it. As soon as possible. So.”

“So…?”

He hears an annoyed sigh. “So please go to his room, pick up the blue plastic bag on his bed, and bring it here.”

“… Where’s ‘here’?”

“Seriously?” She groans, rattling off an address that Victor barely has the wherewithal to write down. “It’s called ‘The Pantheon’,” she adds. “Bright neon sign and everything. You can’t miss it.”

And with that, she hangs up, leaving Victor to stare, bewildered, at his phone. A thousand thoughts are running through his head at the moment, but chief among them is this: he now has a unique opportunity. That is, to see firsthand where Yuuri works.

Slowly rising from his bed, Victor looks at the address he’s hastily written down on an old takeout receipt.

“The Pantheon, huh?” he repeats to himself. What sort of name was that?

Pulling on a pair of jeans and an old long-sleeved shirt, Victor tucks the address and his phone into his pocket and heads for Yuuri’s room. Makkachin is slumbering peacefully on her doggy bed in the hall, unresponsive to Victor’s movement.

In Yuuri’s room, just as the woman said, there’s an opaque blue plastic bag sitting on his bed. It’s sealed off with tape, so Victor couldn’t take a peek at what’s inside even if he tried (which he’s not going to; he’s curious about Yuuri’s job, but he’s not going to look through his stuff without asking). Picking it up, the bag is heavy. It jostles like whatever’s inside is made of metal, but… What the hell could be so important that one of Yuuri’s co-workers – he presumes that’s who the woman was, anyway – would call and demand that Victor bring it over?

Shaking his head, Victor leaves Yuuri’s room. He supposes he’ll find out once he delivers it. Grabbing his keys, he heads out of the apartment and into his car, driving towards the destination apparently known at The Pantheon.

It’s barely a ten-minute drive until Victor sees a pink neon sign with the very name flashing on it. He parks his car in the lot, and stares at the building. Posters of scantily-clad men and women decorate the walls, and there’s an intimidating man guarding the door as people enter. A bouncer?

Yuuri works at a place that has a _bouncer?_

Confused, Victor gets out of the car, blue bag in hand, and meekly approaches the building. The bouncer raises an eyebrow at him, asking a silent question. Victor holds up the bag.

“I’m, uh, Victor? I have… something for Yuuri. Ah, Yuuri Katsuki?”

The bouncer blinks, then nods, a look of understanding on his features. “Back entrance,” he grunts, gesturing around the building. Victor awkwardly thanks him and goes in that direction. He passes by many of those posters, some depicting men and woman on… stripper poles.

Oh god. Victor’s heart starts to thud in his chest. Is this a strip club? It – it can’t be, right? Yuuri’s not the type to…

Before Victor can freak out more, he sees the back-entrance’s door. As if carried by auto-pilot, he pushes it open.

Immediately, he’s greeting by the sound of dulled, thudding music and chatter. He finds himself in a long hallway, though it’s certainly not empty. People are bustling to and fro, some dressed normally, others… not so much.

God. It _is_ a strip club. Those people are strippers – Yuuri works at a _strip club?_

A thought enters Victor’s mind, which makes his head dizzy at the implications of it. Is Yuuri a - ?

“Hey!” a woman’s voice snaps him out of his daze. His eyes snap to a woman with a stylish black bob striding towards him. She’s dressed modestly, and not in sparkly lingerie, so she’s not a stripper. Maybe. Victor isn’t sure of anything at the moment. “Who are you?” she asks accusingly.

“I’m, uh…”

He doesn’t get to finish, because she spots the blue bag in his hands and positively beams with delight.

“Ah! There it is!” She grabs Victor by the shoulders and pulls him in for a hug, much to his added confusion. “I thought we wouldn’t get to debut it tonight!”

When she releases him, she grins amiably and sticks out her hand. “I’m Isabella. You must be Victor.”

“Y… Yeah…?”

One of the passing strippers stops upon hearing his name and whips around, staring at Victor with awe. He’s dark-skinned and really quite attractive; his features are accentuated with the wing-tip eyeliner framing his eyes and the elaborate blue and white costume he wears. It looks like the sexy version of a prince’s uniform, Victor notes distantly.

“ _That’s_ Victor?” he asks, staring with wide eyes. “Holy shit. Yuuri wasn’t kidding, was he? You’re gorgeous!”

“Uh.” Victor is so lost. “Thank you?”

Isabella snorts. “Careful, Phichit. I’ll tell Seung Gil you said that.”

“I can appreciate someone’s aesthetics without wanting to date them, Bels,” Phichit – _that’s Phichit? –_ responds. “Besides, Yuuri would kill me if I made a move on him.”

“Um,” Victor blurts, unable to bear it any longer. “Where is Yuuri?”

Isabella and Phichit exchange glances. Then the former smiles, pointing down the other end of the hallway.

“Look for the room marked ‘Eros’,” she tells him. “Just go ahead and give him the bag, yeah? Thanks, you’re a lifesaver!”

She and Phichit run down the hallway, giggling like schoolchildren, before Victor can call out to them. Utterly confused, Victor turns to look down the end of the hallway Isabella had pointed to. Then, with lack of any other direction, he starts to walk.

He finds the door marked ‘Eros’ quickly. Lifting his hand, he hesitates for a moment before knocking.

“Come in,” Yuuri’s muffled voice answers, nearly giving Victor a heart attack.

Numbly, he turns the knob and opens the door.

It’s a modest little dressing room. There’s a vanity decorated with makeup and bits and bobs of accessories, a clothes rack with multiple outfits piled onto it, and a white screen that has a shadow moving behind it, the silhouette of a man –

A familiar figure strolls out from behind the screen, wearing naught but a pair of red booty shorts that Victor immediately zeroes in on. _Christ._

“Bella, did you - ?” Yuuri starts to ask, then stops abruptly upon realizing that it’s not Isabella he’s speaking to. Instead he sees Victor, standing in the doorway, looking like a lost, shocked, and slightly aroused puppy.

Yuuri blinks.

So does Victor.

And then Yuuri screams.

He dives back behind the screen as Victor jolts, visibly startled by the Japanese man’s reaction. Only his head pokes back out, and Victor can see that his face is as red as those damned booty shorts.

“V-V-Victor!” he squeaks. “W-What are you doing here?!”

Taking a small step back, Victor ignores the heat in his own cheeks and holds up the blue bag. “You, uh – forgot this. At home. So I… Isabella called me?”

Yuuri’s eyes only grow wider. “She _what?!”_

Victor flinches. “She told me to, ah, bring it here? So I… did?”

“B-But,” Yuuri flounders, “why are you in _here?!”_

“She told me to give it to you!” Victor shouts back, perhaps a bit desperately. He just really wants Yuuri to stop yelling. And maybe, also, to stop looking at him like he’s a colossal pervert.

That last part might just be Victor’s imagination, though.

Yuuri swears under his breath, muttering something in Japanese, so Victor can’t understand it. He hears Isabella’s name, though, so he can hazard a guess.

“Uh…” Victor clears his throat, calling Yuuri’s attention again. The atmosphere in the room is intensely awkward. “So… you’re…” He gestures vaguely. “This is your job?”

Yuuri makes an odd noise, something between a groan and a sob, but manages to nod his head anyway.

“Y-… Yeah.”

“You… You don’t seem the type. I mean, you don’t act like a… you know.”

Yuuri’s brow furrows. “How are you supposed to ‘act’ like a stripper?” His tone, while still small and mortified, now has a tinge of annoyance laced through it. “Do you mean like a slut?”

“N-No!” Victor shouts, backpedaling hurriedly. “I didn’t mean - ! I’m just surprised, okay? You’re usually so shy, this isn’t something I thought you would _do.”_

Yuuri’s mouth twists, but his expression soon softens, and he nods. “I… I get that. I’m sorry I never told you, I just didn’t think…”

“What?”

“That you’d…” Yuuri grimaces. “Approve…?”

Victor stares as Yuuri goes on.

“I mean, it’s weird, right? We didn’t know each other well enough for me to just go and say, ‘Hey, by the way, I’m a stripper!’ the first time we met. And then we started to get to know each other better, but I still wasn’t sure if this was something you’d be cool with or not, so I didn’t say anything – and it’s not like you ever asked about my job, either - !”

“Yuuri,” Victor takes a step forwards, cutting the rambling stripper off. Some semblance of calm returns to him, upon hearing Yuuri so flustered and adorable – it’s familiar territory. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“It… It doesn’t?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I mean, I’m still shocked, yes, but… You’re not doing this against your will, or because you really, really need the cash or anything, right?”

“No…”

“Then I don’t see why I should disapprove.” Victor awkwardly shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “And even if I did, it’s not like I could kick you out of the apartment.” He waits for a beat, then adds with a smile, “Makkachin would never forgive me.”

That earns a startled giggle from Yuuri. It’s less unbearably awkward now, and Victor is grateful for that. Yuuri is smiling at him like he always does, fondly and cutely. He tries valiantly to forget that the younger man is wearing naught but a scrap of red fabric behind that screen. His hands clench unconsciously, causing him to hear the crinkle of plastic.

Remembering the blue bag, he jolts, staring down at it in wonder. He’s starting to guess that it’s maybe a costume for Yuuri to wear.

“Should I just…?” He holds out the bag again. Yuuri nods to the vanity next to the screen.

“Just, um, leave it there. I’ll get it.” He glances at the clock and swears. “Shit, I have to go on soon!”

Victor hurriedly leaves the bag on the vanity, trying not to think of what ‘going on’ implies, and retreats to the door. “T-Then I’ll just… go. See you tomorrow, I guess?”

Yuuri spares him another smile. “Yeah. Thank you, Victor. For, um. A lot of stuff.”

Victor feels himself smile back. He walks out of the room and closes the door behind him.

As soon as he does, he lets out a long exhale. This has definitely been an interesting night.

With a few steps towards the exit, he wonders how on earth he’s supposed to sleep now, knowing what he knows. Maybe he can take the day off tomorrow.

Before he can within even a few feet of the door, however, Phichit suddenly reappears, hair disheveled, sweaty, and wearing a _lot_ less clothing than before. The only thing preserving his dignity is a pair of glittering blue panties – with a few crisp paper bills tucked into the waistband of them.

“Hey!” Phichit chirps. “You’re leaving already? Yuuri’s going on next!”

Victor stumbles for an answer. “Well, I…”

Unfortunately, Phichit doesn’t let him finish. The man merely grabs him by the arm and tugs him down the other end of the hall, towards where the thumping music is growing louder.

“Wait,” Victor tries, but they’re already out into the club before he can say another word.

Victor’s never been to a strip club before, actually. So he’s not expecting the place to look quite as classy as it does. Then again, he hates to imagine Yuuri having to work in one of those seedy, dirty places you see in movies and TV, so it’s a pleasant surprise, at least.

Phichit maneuvers him into an empty chair by the wall, pretty far from the main stage. The other seats are packed with people – men _and_ women, who are either chatting, drinking, or looking eagerly towards the curtains on stage.

Phichit sits beside him, though his attention is briefly focused on the few customers who wolf-whistle at him. He blows a flirty kiss in return, then turns to Victor.

“So,” he starts, suddenly frowning. He eyes Victor critically, much to Victor’s discomfort. “Victor… Nikiforov, right?”

He tenses. “Y-…Yes?”

“Listen up, then, Victor Nikiforov,” he says seriously. “You might be hot as fuck, and you might have an accent that would make any sane person weak in the knees, but let me set you straight on one thing: fuck with Yuuri, and you will answer to me. Probably Isabella, too. And JJ – you know what, just count all of us here.”

Victor frowns. “What?”

“Because we love that little nerd to pieces, okay?” Phichit goes on. “And he’s been talking nonstop about you… pretty much since he moved in with you. So if you hurt him in any way…”

Phichit’s voice drops to a low, threatening tone, but Victor barely notices. He only starts at the mere indication that he would _ever_ hurt Yuuri, a completely ridiculous idea.

“Why would I hurt him?” he blurts. “I’m in love with him!”

Despite the loud music, Victor feels like it’s gone quiet. The stripper sitting next to him blinks, stunned. But then a wide grin crawls across his lips. Victor feels himself blush at the smug expression Phichit now wears.

“Awesome,” he beams. “Glad we got that cleared up.”

An announcer’s voice starts to boom over the speakers, drawing their attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen! You know him, you love him, you worship him! It’s _Eros!”_

The crowd whistles and hollers as the curtain parts, and out walks…

Victor’s mouth goes dry. _Yuuri._

Except he looks like a totally different person. His glasses are gone, and his usually unkempt hair is now slicked back, highlighting his smoky-eye makeup and golden lips. And his outfit – _fuck._ It’s basically a pair of black lace panties, but the real eyecatchers are the elaborate gold chains hanging off his shoulders and chest. He looks like he’s literally dripping with gold.

He strides across the stage – god, he’s wearing heels, too – his expression both haughty and flirtatious. People crowded around the stage beg for his attention, waving around their money as if to entice him to them, but Yuuri merely keeps walking, above it all and ethereal, swaying his hips so that the chains sway too, and Victor’s eyes are glued to him.

He reaches a pole at the end of the stage and grabs a hold of it. Victor nearly chokes on his own spits as Yuuri lifts himself effortlessly onto the pole, gripping it between his thighs and letting go with his hands, his head tilted back with a smirk as the audience applauds appreciatively, many admiring the curve of his back – Victor is among them, though he’s still too stunned to clap or whistle.

“I taught him how to do that,” Phichit says proudly, not that Victor even hears him. He can’t take his eyes off Yuuri, who’s started _dancing_ on the pole, performing complicated yet incredibly arousing tricks. The golden chains glint in the spotlight, making Yuuri look like a star in human form.

Yuuri resettles on the ground, his back facing Victor. His fingers hook into the waistband of his panties, much to the excitement of the crowd. Victor watches on in disbelief as Yuuri slowly pulls the panties down, exposing the plush swell of his ass for just a moment before tugging them back up with a kittenish wink tossed over his shoulder.

Tons of paper bills are tossed onto the stage in response.

Victor stands abruptly, startling Phichit.

“Victor?”

“I – have an early morning,” Victor rushes out, voice strained. “I have to go. Bye.”

Without waiting for Phichit’s reply, he dashes for the exit, desperately willing himself to not look in Yuuri’s direction again as he makes his escape.

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god, finally

* * *

 

Yuuri comes into work with red, puffy eyes and tearstained cheeks.

“Yuuri!” JJ is the first to notice his entrance backstage, his voice tinted with worry. “What the hell happened to you?”

The other dancers turn and take note of Yuuri’s face, much to his mortification. He thought he’d cleaned himself up fairly well on the bus ride over. Apparently not, because all his coworkers are gathering around him like he’s a lost child.

He kind of wants to start crying again.

“It’s…”

He debates lying to his friends, but decides against it. They can always tell when he’s lying, anyway, and besides… he needs to get this off his chest.

“It’s Victor,” he finishes miserably.

“You mean Hot Roommate?” Michele asks, frowning. “What did he do now?”

“He…” Yuuri starts to sniffle, to the alarm of everyone present. Vision blurring, he opts to just shout it out. “He hates me!”

There’s a beat of stunned silence, and then…

“I’m sorry, what?” Phichit asks incredulously. “No, he doesn’t! Why would you think that?”

“He - !” Yuuri cuts himself off with a pitiful sob. JJ and Isabella both wrap an arm around him, as in sync as always. “He hasn’t talked to me in _days!_ H-He’s been avoiding me!”

He feels something being pressed into his hands. Opening his eyes, he can barely make out the red hair of Mila; the object feels like tissues. He gratefully wipes his eyes with them.

“Why would he do that, Yuuri?” the redhead asks gently.

“He found out about my job,” he says despondently. “He said he was fine with it, but – but he must really be disgusted, he can’t even look at me without running away!”

“What a dick,” snorts Seung Gil. “I thought he was supposed to be all nice and charming.”

“I hate to say it, but I agree with Seung Gil,” says Michele. “JJ, don’t you know the guy?”

“I only saw him a couple of times at their apartment,” JJ says back. “Bella, you actually talked to him, right? When he showed up a few days ago?”

“I did,” his girlfriend nods. “He did seem kind of uncomfortable here, now that I think about it…”

Yuuri starts to cry harder.

“No, no, no,” Phichit waves his hands around. “No. Hold on. I talked to Victor, too. I need more information, Yuuri.”

Yuuri sniffles again. “W-What do you mean?”

“I mean, like, _how_ is Victor running from you?”

The Japanese man bites his lip in hesitation. Just thinking about it makes him feel even worse.

“Well… T-Today, before I left, I was a little later than usual… He just came out of his room, I think he was expecting me to already be gone. When he saw me, I tried to smile and talk to him, but he… He just looked at me like I drew a gun on him and then he ran back to his room.”

He finishes his recounting of the event with his head hanging. Isabella pats his back comfortingly, but Phichit shakes his head.

“That doesn’t make any sense. When I talked to him, he told me he was in love with you!”

Yuuri’s head snaps back up so fast he startles Isabella and JJ. “He _what?”_

“When was this?” Isabella asks dubiously.

“After my performance that night, I found him in the hallway and took him to the main room. You know, to watch Yuuri.”

Yuuri squeaks. “He _watched_ me?!”

Phichit nods. “And he seemed really into it! Except, ah… He kind of bolted after you flashed your ass to the crowd.”

Yuuri deflates again, leaning into JJ for support. “I knew it… Even if he said he… l-loved me, he must think I’m a total slut now…”

“I don’t think so,” Otabek’s voice comes out of nowhere, startling most of the room. Their head security guard only raises an eyebrow at the reaction to his unannounced appearance. “I saw him as he was leaving.”

“And…?” prompts JJ.

“He had a pretty noticeable boner,” he finishes, deadpan. “I remember chuckling at him as he tried to run to his car.”

Yuuri doesn’t think he’s ever seen Otabek smile, not to mention chuckle, but that’s not really the part he gets hung-up on.

“He had a…” his voice trembles. “A what?”

“That’s it!” Phichit snaps his fingers, grinning. “He’s avoiding you because he’s embarrassed!”

Yuuri looks at him, lost.

“Ah,” Michele nods. “That makes sense. Sara did the same when she found out about me working here.”

“Okay, but Sara’s your sister, so it’s a _little_ different from Yuuri’s situation,” says JJ. Michele says nothing in reply. “Anyway, Phichit. Care to elaborate?”

“It’s pretty obvious. Victor’s in love with Yuuri, so he probably already thinks he’s super-hot, as do we all. But then he sees Yuuri in that gorgeous golden number, working that pole like he was born on it?”

“It must’ve been too much for the poor man,” finishes Isabella, with a look of pity. “And now he’s too embarrassed to even look Yuuri in the eye!”

“Or he probably just gets really turned on whenever he looks at him now,” remarks Seung Gil. Otabek nods his agreement.

“Either way,” Phichit cuts in, just as Yuuri turns a truly astounding shade of pink, “Yuuri, you have to do something about this. You can’t let the guy live on with the world’s worst case of blue balls! It’s cruel!”

“I – hold on!” Yuuri shakes his head, trying to clear it of the numerous revelations he’s just had. But they’re all still there: Victor watching him perform, Victor getting _aroused_ by him…

Victor admitting he’s in love with him.

He feels a myriad of emotions. Embarrassed, delighted, frustrated…

“What… What would I even do about it?” he asks quietly. “He’s avoiding me, remember?”

“So you corner him,” shrugs Michele. “ _Make_ him pay attention to you. And get this whole thing sorted out.”

Yuuri takes a deep breath. “Okay. And how do I do that?”

He’s met with a sea of raised eyebrows and knowing looks.

“W-What?”

“Oh, Yuuri,” sighs Mila. “How can someone so sexy be so innocent?”

“It’s like a curse,” Isabella sighs, too.

Yuuri frowns, and Phichit leans in to whisper to him. Yuuri’s eyes go wide, the blush returning in full force to his cheeks.

“I-I couldn’t do that!” he squawks. “I - ! I haven’t done anything like that in a really long time!”

“Sooo, it’s the perfect opportunity for both of you!” says Isabella.

JJ nods. “Phichit and I can cover your routines tonight. Yuuri, go home.”

“Wh - ?”

Isabella and JJ are already pushing him towards the door, which Otabek is holding open, stone-faced as ever. Phichit waves and shouts after him.

“Go and get your man, Eros!”

 

* * *

 

So. Yuuri finds himself at home again.

JJ had given him a lift, since there weren’t any buses available at the time. His friend had flashed him a thumbs-up and a grin as he reluctantly got out of the car.

Yuuri thinks, a bit petulantly, that he should get new friends.

But… maybe they’re right. A part of him, small and hopeful, prays that they are. That Victor doesn’t actually hate him or think he’s a slut, that he actually…

He’s giddy just thinking about it. _Loves him._

With a deep breath and exhale, Yuuri enters the apartment as quietly as he can. So far, so good; Makkachin doesn’t bound up to him in her usual, excited way, and he can’t see Victor anywhere.

As he creeps further into the apartment, he hears noise coming from Victor’s room, meaning his roommate-slash-crush-slash-maybe-admirer is in there. He tiptoes past his door to his own room.

Yuuri puts aside his bag and throws open his closet, looking for something… how did JJ put it? ‘Enticing’?

Unfortunately, the most enticing clothes he has are the ones Isabella makes for Eros. The most Yuuri Katsuki has is a dark blue silk yukata he’d brought from Japan…

Yuuri looks at the yukata. Actually, that might not be too bad.

Pulling it from the hanger, Yuuri quickly and deftly changes, forgoing the white undergarment that goes with the clothes. He also utters a silent apology to his parents, who purchased him the yukata under the impression that he would wear it to festivals, or maybe when he was feeling homesick.

They probably didn’t think he would wear it to seduce his roommate.

Tying the sash securely around his waist, the yukata hangs loosely off his form. It looks more like a glorified nightgown than a proper yukata, but he supposes that suits his purposes just fine. He looks at himself in the mirror.

After a minute’s deliberation, he takes off his glasses and pushes his hair back. For good measure, he also puts on a little bit of the lip balm Phichit had given him a few months ago.

The overall effect is that he looks like a slutty courtesan, which he supposes is good enough.

As he heads to his door, though, he pauses, turning his head to glance at his bedside table. He hesitates for a moment before crossing over to it and pulling the drawer open. Inside is the usual; pens, a cleaning cloth for his glasses, some magazines… and a small bottle of lube.

Before he can lose his nerve, Yuuri settles himself on his bed, moving the yukata out of the way as he leans against the headboard. He opens the bottle and squirts a generous amount onto his hand. Then he brings that hand down the length of his body until it brushes past his soft cock and balls, and his fingers press against the already-twitching ring of muscle that is his entrance.

He starts prepping himself as quickly as he can manage. Distantly, he thinks he’s maybe being a little _too_ optimistic – that maybe, even if Victor does admit to being in love with him, there’s no guarantee that he’ll fuck him tonight – but he’s already started, and he has no inclination to stop now.

By the time he has three fingers stretching his hole nice and wide, his cock is completely hard, begging for even the slightest touch. Yuuri pulls out his fingers and takes a shuddering breath. Recomposing himself within an impressive few minutes, he stands, readjust the yukata, and strides towards the door, albeit with slightly awkward steps.

He makes his way out of his room and walks over to Victor’s, where he knocks on the door without another second of hesitation.

“Victor?” he calls out.

He hears something thud to the ground on the other side of the door.

“Y-Yuuri! Wh – I thought you went to work?” Victor’s voice replies, sounding dismayed. Yuuri is discouraged for only a moment before he puffs out his chest and pouts. No, he’s doing this.

“I decided to take the day off,” he lies. “I need to talk to you.”

“Now’s not, uh,” Yuuri hears more rustling. “Not now. It’s a really bad time.”

Frustrated, Yuuri raises his voice. “You’ve been avoiding me for the past few days, Victor! When is it going to be a good time?”

There’s silence.

“… Fine,” Yuuri sighs. “I can’t believe I thought you were really okay with it.”

“… Yuuri?”

“I get it. You _do_ hate me, don’t you?” Yuuri adds a little wobble to his tone. “You think I’m a stupid whore who gets off on getting naked for strangers.”

“What – no!” There’s another thud, and then footsteps running up the door. Seconds later, it’s yanked open, revealing Victor’s distressed – and flushed – face. “Yuuri, of course I don’t think that! I – oh…”

Victor suddenly goes quiet, taking in Yuuri’s attire. The yukata slips off one of his shoulders just so, revealing his smooth shoulder and a pink, dusky nipple. Victor swallows thickly, and Yuuri feels a little surge of satisfaction; he’s a stripper, he knows how to make men and women weak. He just never thought his tricks would work on Victor.

Then he looks down for a brief second, and he notices. Victor’s naked. And very, very aroused. Yuuri’s breath hitches. Holy _shit._ Victor is – fuck, there’s no other word for it.

He’s fucking _hung._

His cock, thick and long and curving up against his stomach, is an almost angry shade of red, the head of it weeping precum, which also seems to be smeared all along the shaft and dripping down onto his balls. If Yuuri looks to the left (which he isn’t going to do, as transfixed as he is with Victor’s surprise package), he’ll see Victor’s hand, glistening with the same fluid. He’d been jerking off.

Yuuri subconsciously squeezes his legs together, lube still slowly dripping down his legs, his cock throbbing harder with desire.

Victor blinks, confused as to why Yuuri isn’t looking at his face. Then he suddenly remembers what he’s wearing – or rather, not wearing – and yelps, grabbing the first thing he can get his hands on to try and cover himself. In this case, it ends up being a t-shirt from the floor.

“I-!” Victor’s mouth flaps uselessly, searching for an excuse.

Yuuri snaps out of his daze at Victor’s voice. He returns his eyes to the older man’s face, finding him adorably flustered as he tries to explain.

“I was just – changing! Into my pajamas!”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “Do you usually get hard when you do that?”

Impossibly, Victor’s blush darkens, covering his entire face. It really makes the blue of his eyes stand out, muses Yuuri.

Emboldened by Victor’s now obvious interest, Yuuri lets a smirk slide onto his face as he steps forwards. Victor seems rooted in place, terrified. He looks like he thinks Yuuri is going to punch his lights out.

“What were you thinking about, Victor?” he asks breathily, leaning in against Victor’s chest. His roommate stutters, utterly confused. He puts a finger on Victor’s lips, stopping him from speaking. “I already know. You were thinking about me, weren’t you?”

Victor’s eyes go round.

“My friends told me,” Yuuri continues, using his other hand to trace light circles on Victor’s sternum. “You saw me perform. You got all hot and bothered by it. That’s the real reason you’ve been avoiding me, isn’t it?”

Victor’s breath hitches. Yuuri lets his finger slide down, allowing the taller man to speak. Or try to.

“I…” he gulps audibly. “Uh…”

Yuuri licks his lips, going in for the kill. “You want to fuck me, don’t you, Victor?”

Victor jolts as if he’s been struck, but all that comes out of his mouth is a choked-off whimper. Yuuri chuckles, amused, and pulls one of his hands back from Victor’s chest to tug at the sash holding the yukata closed.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” he whispers against Victor’s skin, “I want you to fuck me, too.”

The sash falls, and the yukata opens like a curtain, revealing Yuuri’s bare form – and his own hardened, leaking cock – to Victor’s hungry eyes. Yuuri steps closer, now fully inside the threshold of Victor’s room, and uses his foot to close the door behind him, all with a coquettish smirk.

Victor is visibly trembling. “You – what?”

“You want me to say it again?” Yuuri asks, raising an eyebrow. “I want you to fuck me. I’ve wanted it for so long…”

His hands move to cover Victor’s – specifically, the one still holding the t-shirt up to hide his cock. One hand curls around the wrist, gently urging it up, while the other slips up the t-shirt to let Yuuri’s fingers brush against heated, slick skin.

Victor gasps at the touch, his gaze darting down to where Yuuri’s fingers are now curling around the base of his cock.

“If I’m wrong, tell me to leave now,” says Yuuri, still seductive and husky, but with a more serious edge as well. Victor meets his eyes again, and Yuuri almost grimaces; there’s so much swirling around in those blue depths. He can’t tell how much of Victor is turned on, confused, or maybe even scared. “If you don’t want this, I’ll go.”

Victor’s lips twitch, like he’s about to say something… but then he doesn’t. He glances down again for a moment, then back up, and his expression slowly morphs to one of understanding.

Without further preamble, Victor drops the t-shirt to grab Yuuri’s face and pull him in for a kiss.

Yuuri lets out a surprised little gasp of his own, but he soon melts into the kiss, letting go of Victor’s cock in favor of wrapping his arms around the taller man’s back. Their fronts press together, which means their dicks do, too, earning a groan from the both of them as their sensitive skins slide against each other.

Despite his earlier behavior, Victor doesn’t hesitate in the kiss. He licks into Yuuri’s mouth – Yuuri letting him in all too easily – and strokes his tongue alongside the stripper’s. It makes wet, smacking sounds echo in the space of Victor’s bedroom, filthy and delightful in equal measure.

When they finally part, Victor gazes down at Yuuri, pupils dilated so widely there’s more just a thing ring of blue in his irises. Yuuri’s face is still held between his hands, so he strokes both thumbs across the shorter man’s cheeks.

“God, Yuuri,” he breathes. “You’re so –!”

Yuuri smiles. He starts walking forwards, lightly urging Victor to walk backwards across his room.

“I’m so what, Victor?” he murmurs. “Tell me.”

Victor’s legs hit the side of his bed, so the Russian ends up falling into a sitting position on the edge of it. Yuuri stands above him, between his legs, smirking mischievously.

_“Beautiful,”_ Victor finishes, his voice a mere whisper.

Yuuri feels himself blush a little harder, an overwhelming surge of fondness and love welling up inside him – but he’s a professional, and professionals don’t break character. So, as much as he’d love to fall into Victor’s arms and let the other man ravish him in any way he pleases, he’s set out to do the ravishing himself.

Rolling his shoulders back, the yukata finally falls to the floor, leaving him as bare as his roommate. Victor lets out a small breath, hands immediately shooting to grab Yuuri’s waist. Yuuri lets him, smiling as he observes the other’s man awed, rapt expression.

Victor’s fingers flex, digging into Yuuri’s skin. Then he slides them around, each palm cupping the cheeks of the stripper’s ass. Yuuri lets out a soft gasp as Victor gives them a gentle squeeze, though the sound is drowned out by the low, heated groan that slips from the other man’ throat.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he whispers. “Even before I knew what your job was. Yuuri, I…”

Yuuri smiles, settling himself in Victor’s lap. His legs straddle the taller man’s hips, brushing their heated cocks together in a way that makes them both bite their lips.

“I know,” Yuuri says in reply, just as quietly. “Phichit told me… You said you were in love with me?”

He means for it to come out more self-assured, that he _knows_ Victor said it, but… Well. Seeing the evidence of his physical attraction is one thing – a big thing, certainly, but he still needs to be sure. After this, what’ll become of their relationship?

His worries are instantly negated when Victor leans in, giving him the softest, most intimate kiss Yuuri’s ever received in his life, and after that, leans back to gaze at him with wide, adoring eyes.

“I am,” he replies softly.

Yuuri suppresses a shudder, and instead positions himself right above Victor’s eager dick.

“Say it.”

Victor’s smile grows wider. “I’m in love with you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri bites his lip and, with one last gaze into Victor’s eyes, sinks down onto his cock.

Victor chokes on air, his hands spasming on Yuuri’s ass. “Wh - !”

Yuuri, meanwhile, lets his eyes roll back in his head and he slowly takes all of Victor inside. Each inch slides in, hot and thick, filling him up and rubbing against his sensitive walls. “O-Oh…!”

When he bottoms out, they both release a breath.

“Holy shit,” Victor strains to say. “W-When did you - ?”

“Just before I came in,” Yuuri murmurs, dazed. “Mm, should’ve prepped myself more… I didn’t know how big you were…”

Victor’s hands hesitantly move from Yuuri’s ass to his hips. “D-Does it hurt?”

“Just give me a minute, don’t move…” Yuuri takes a deep breath, then exhales it. “God, I’ve never been so full. Your cock is incredible…”

To his amazement, Victor twitches inside him, earning a small gasp from the stripper.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor whines. “You can’t just say things like that and tell me not to move...”

“Sorry,” he grins, not sorry at all. “Mm…”

They sit like that, clinging to each other and not moving, for a few more moments. Finally, Yuuri gives a small sigh of content.

“Victor?”

“Y-Yeah?”

“I’m gonna ride you now,” the stripper murmurs hotly. “Okay?”

Victor gives him another helpless, lovestruck stare. “God, _yes.”_

With a chuckle, Yuuri quickly presses his lips to Victor’s, and lifts his hips at the same time. He brings himself back down slowly, savoring the feeling of being filled all over again. Victor’s fingers are gripping bruises into his hips, while the man himself breathes harshly against Yuuri’s mouth.

Yuuri maintains a steady pace, his arms wrapped tightly around Victor’s neck. Every movement feels hot and syrupy, like he’s trapped in a dream, and one he doesn’t think he wants to wake up from.

“Yuuri, Yuuri…” Victor chants his name like a prayer, voice tight and restrained. And no, thinks Yuuri; that just won’t do.

Suddenly he unwraps his arms and shoves Victor so that his back hits the bed – the older man is left to blink in confusion at the ceiling. When he angles his head to look up, he finds the stripper smirking mischievously down at him. Yuuri plants his hands flat on Victor’s stomach, raises his hips once more, and slams back down with more force, earning a punched-out gasp from the man below him.

“Let me hear how good I make you feel, Victor,” he beckons, though the plea itself is breathless, bordering more on a whimper than a demand.

_“Blyad,”_ Victor groans, followed by a smattering of Russian phrases Yuuri doesn’t understand. Not that he needs to – he can guess by tone alone what Victor is saying. And on the plus side, hearing Victor speak his native language is an _immense_ turn-on.

Shivering with delight, Yuuri wraps a hand around his previously-ignored cock and begins stroking it in time with his movement. He lets out a loud, unabashed moan, bouncing harder and faster. He’s so caught up in his own pleasure that he doesn’t even notice the pale, broad hands sneaking to grip him around the waist.

Then abruptly, he finds himself on his back – now he’s the one blinking up, staring at Victor’s red, sweat-drenched face. His blue eyes are narrowed, there’s a determined set to his jaw… Yuuri marvels, not for the first time, at how unbelievably _hot_ Victor is.

He clenches around the taller man’s cock, earning a soft grunt and a glare. Yuuri grins teasingly. That grin promptly disappears, however, once Victor pulls his hips back and pounds his cock back inside. Yuuri moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Oh, _God…!”_

“I never would’ve guessed,” Victor is saying, though he’s set up a rhythm with his thrusts, and it’s a herculean effort for Yuuri to pay attention to anything other than the feeling of getting fucked. But Victor keeps speaking regardless. “That you’d be such a tease… Mm… In my fantasies before, you were this shy, virginal little thing…”

Yuuri, despite himself, finds an amused smile making its way onto his face. “S-Sorry to disappoint,” he tries to say, even though his tongue feels like it’s just given up on working properly.

“You could never,” Victor replies earnestly. “You’re _perfect.”_

Overcome with emotion, Yuuri tugs Victor down for a kiss, which he happily obliges in. Victor’s bed is starting to creak in protest underneath them. And at the same time, Yuuri feels a tight, building sensation grow more and more urgent within him.

“Victor,” he slurs against the man’s mouth. “I’m going to… come, Victor!”

“Fuck, yes, do it,” says Victor. “Come on my cock, Yuuri –!”

He slams inside in a particularly rough manner – and that does it. Tilting his head back with a scream that their neighbors will be sure to hear, Yuuri comes hard, semen splattering out of his cock and onto his abdomen. It feels like it goes on forever, though Victor seems content to let Yuuri ride out his high while his cock is still buried to the hilt inside him.

Finally, when Yuuri stops coming, Victor gingerly eases himself out of the stripper’s puffy, abused hole, and clambers up his bed to kneel beside Yuuri’s head. Yuuri, though tired, glances at him quizzically, only for his eyes to widen in understanding when Victor begins to pump his leaking cock with a furious pace.

Yuuri smiles, opening his mouth in silent invitation. He keeps his eyes on Victor, who in turn can’t seem to look away from the stripper.

Victor releases with a guttural grunt, letting ropes of come stripe Yuuri’s face. A fair amount of it lands on his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and even a bit of his ear, but the majority lands on his waiting tongue. Yuuri waits patiently for Victor to recover from his climax before dutifully swallowing what’s in his mouth, which earns another low moan from the man above him.

_“Ya lyublyu tebya…”_

Yuuri giggles. “I have no idea what you just said.”

Victor chuckles, moving to lay down beside the younger man. He props his head up with one hand, while the other gently cups Yuuri’s face, tilting it towards him.

“I said I love you.”

Yuuri blushes – or, he thinks he does. He imagines his face is still flushed from their earlier activities, so it might be hard to tell. Nonetheless, he places his own hand on top of Victor’s and moves it, kissing the palm with as much sincerity as he can put into the gesture. Victor must understand, for he leans down not moments later and envelopes Yuuri’s lips in yet another kiss.

Not many words are spoken after that; they’re both exhausted, and so they fall asleep together, holding each other close. Neither of them let go for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

It’s a typical morning. Or, it would be, had Victor not woken up to an empty bed when he was _sure_ that he and Yuuri…

Before his heart can sink to his stomach and his mind convinces him that it was all a dream, he hears Makkachin barking in the kitchen, followed by familiar and beautiful laughter.

Victor hurries out of bed, ignoring the fact that he’s still naked.

He runs to the kitchen in record time, only to be greeted with an amazing sight. There’s Makkachin, as per usual, with her face buried in her dish as she eats as voraciously as ever. But then there’s Yuuri.

He’s wearing the yukata from last night, which is already doing _things_ to Victor. He catches sight of Victor ogling him from the doorway and smiles.

“Good morning,” he says softly, like he’s afraid he’ll scare Victor away if he speaks any louder.

Victor doesn’t reply. Instead, he crosses over to Yuuri and pulls him into a kiss. The stripper is more than happy to let him, wrapping his arms around Victor’s broad shoulders, leaning into the kiss by propping himself up on his toes.

When they part – far too soon in Victor’s opinion – Yuuri gives him another, shyer smile, and gestures to the two cups on the counter beside them.

“I made coffee,” he explains. “With cream and sugar. That’s how you like it, right?”

Victor’s heart nearly melts. He _loves_ this man.

After a few more kisses, the two of them eventually settle at the table, their coffee waiting patiently to be finished. Yuuri opts to sit not in a chair, but on Victor’s lap. Not that Victor really minds. What he does mind is the way Yuuri fidgets. Not only does it cause him to rub against Victor’s unclothed dick, but Yuuri also looks visibly troubled.

Frowning, Victor puts down his cup and wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist.

“Is everything alright, Yuuri?” he asks.

Yuuri jolts, then grimaces. “I… I think we should talk.”

“Oh.” Uneasiness crawls into Victor’s gut. “A-About what?”

Yuuri takes a deep breath, then exhales. “I really loved last night. Like, a _lot.”_

Victor blinks. The tension in his body lessens a bit.

“O-Oh? Well… Nice. I did too.”

“And I… I do really love you, Victor. It’s just…”

“What?” Victor leans forward, hugging Yuuri closer to his body. “What is it?”

“I… I don’t want to quit my job.”

…

Victor stares at him like he’s gone mad, which seems to make Yuuri shrink in on himself.

“I… Okay? Why would you have to quit your job?” asks Victor, genuinely curious.

Yuuri gives him an odd look. “Doesn’t it… Isn’t it weird? Dating a stripper?”

Ah. Victor is starting to understand.

“Not really,” he shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like you go home with your clients. Right?”

Vigorously, Yuuri shakes his head. “Of course not!”

Victor smiles. “And you seem to really love the work.”

Yuuri nods. “I do. It’s… I like the attention. And I like knowing that I have this weird sort of power over people when they watch me… And besides, everyone at the Pantheon is basically like family to me.”

Victor nuzzles into Yuuri’s nape, delighting in the way it catches Yuuri off guard.

“There you go, then. It’s not like I have any reason to not trust you. As long as I’m the one you come home to.”

Yuuri is quiet for a moment. Then, Victor feels him fully relax into his embrace, practically melting against him.

“I’m so lucky,” the younger man whispers. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Funny,” Victor murmurs back, brushing his lips against Yuuri’s neck. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, hey, hey!”

Celestino, owner and manager of the Pantheon, reaches out to grab Yuuri by the shoulder. The younger man, already decked out in his first outfit of the night – an alluring red-and-white combo; he’ll compliment Isabella on her skills the next time he sees her – turns to look at his boss inquiringly.

“What is it, Ciao Ciao?”

Celestino doesn’t even groan at the name anymore. Ever since he hired Phichit, he’d gotten the others to use it damn near excessively, so he’s just quietly resigned himself to never hearing his real name at work.

But anyway. To the issue at hand.

Celestino points a finger at a grouping of marks near Yuuri’s collar. “What are those?”

“What…?” Yuuri glances at the nearest mirror, which is right beside them, and gasps, turning a rather pretty shade of red to match his outfit. He claps a hand over the marks in horror. “Oh God!”

“Are you alright?” Celestino asks, brows furrowed. “If I didn’t know any better, Yuuri, I’d say those were…”

At that moment, JJ walks by, half-dressed and sweaty from just completing his own set. He spots Yuuri fretting over the marks and grins.

“Victor got a little excited, huh?”

Yuuri whimpers. “I told him not to leave marks!”

“Victor?” Celestino questions. He’s heard that name before.

“Oh, right.” JJ pats the older man on the shoulder. “You’ve been out of town for a while, so you don’t know. Yuuri got himself a boyfriend!”

Celestino’s eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, really?” Yuuri never seemed the type to care about romance. Which was odd, considering how alluring he was on stage as Eros, but still. “And the lucky man’s name is Victor?”

“He’s not going to be so lucky when I get home,” Yuuri murmurs darkly, likely brewing some kind of revenge scheme against his lover. Celestino almost pities the man, though he still doesn’t know who he is. A roommate or something, right?

“Come on,” JJ puts an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and starts leading him back to his dressing room. “I’ll show you to hide those. Isabella was the same way when we first started dating.”

Celestino watches them go with little more than a fond shake of his head. He starts heading out, intent on checking the rest of his club to make sure things were still up to standard. But of course, he finds himself wondering about Yuuri’s change in relationship status.

First JJ, now Yuuri. And there were rumors flying about that Phichit and Seung Gil were having a little backstage fun themselves. Not to mention the looks Mila sent Otabek when she thought no one was paying attention.

He holds back a sigh and smiles. It would just devastate their clientele to learn that so many of the Pantheon were technically unavailable.

But, well. As long as they’re happy, Celestino decides not to complain.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't write enough platonic JJYuuri, despite me constantly proclaiming how much I love them. I should fix that.
> 
> Also, that bit with Celestino being the owner at the end came to me just as I was about to post this. So I had to double back and add that in, because Ciao Ciao being a dad to his scantily-clad children is The Best.
> 
> Also also: something that definitely happens when Celestino does meet Victor -   
> Celestino: Wow. Huh... Have you ever considered stripp -   
> Yuuri: (quickly and mercilessly) No.  
> Celestino: But - !  
> Yuuri: No.  
> Victor: ( ・♡・)？
> 
> bc I will wave the Yuuri "Don't Touch My Man" Katsuki flag until the day I die


End file.
